Chapter 3 - THE RECORDING FROM VALE TOWER
Sebastian moved us that night.
I resisted for almost twenty minutes.
Then his security team found a second listening device beneath my kitchen cabinet.
I stopped arguing.
His Manhattan townhouse was not the glass fortress I expected.
It was old.
Brownstone.
Quiet.
Protected by enough discreet surveillance to make a small embassy jealous.
The triplets immediately discovered the staircase.
“That is not a playground,” I said.
Noah looked at Ivy.
Ivy looked at Owen.
They collectively decided I was wrong.
Sebastian watched them race toward the second floor.
“Those are mine.”
“Unfortunately.”
His mouth almost smiled.
Then the moment disappeared.
We had too much to uncover.
At 11:30 p.m., Sebastian’s security chief, Daniel Cross, arrived with an encrypted drive.
“The conference-room archive.”
Sebastian looked at me.
“Ready?”
“No.”
He understood.
We watched anyway.
The image quality was poor.
The date in the corner was unmistakable.
Four years earlier.
I appeared on screen.
Twenty-seven years old.
Five months pregnant.
My stomach visible beneath a gray coat.
I had forgotten how frightened I looked.
Walter Briggs entered.
He placed an envelope on the table.
Young Maya opened it.
Even watching from four years away, I remembered every sentence.
Briggs’s recorded voice came clearly.
“Mr. Vale has reviewed your letters.”
Sebastian beside me whispered, “Liar.”
On screen, I asked, “Did Sebastian read them himself?”
Briggs answered.
“Yes.”
“He knows about the babies?”
“Yes.”
Sebastian stood abruptly.
I grabbed his wrist.
“Sit.”
He looked at me.
“Please.”
He sat.
The recording continued.
I asked whether I could see Sebastian.
Briggs replied:
“Mr. Vale specifically instructed that you not be permitted upstairs.”
I watched myself break.
Not dramatically.
My shoulders simply dropped.
Then I whispered:
“Can you tell him I won’t ask for money?”
Briggs said, “He knows.”
“I only want him to know they’re healthy.”
“He knows.”
“We’re having three.”
“I’m aware.”
Present-day Sebastian covered his mouth.
On screen, Briggs slid another paper toward me.
“This is Mr. Vale’s final offer. Fifty thousand dollars and confidentiality regarding the marriage.”
I stared at the recording.
Sebastian whispered, “That wasn’t my offer.”
I already knew.
Young Maya said:
“I don’t want his money.”
“Then sign the acknowledgment.”
“What acknowledgment?”
“That you understand Mr. Vale does not wish to establish parental rights.”
Present-day Sebastian slammed his fist against the table.
The sound woke no children—the townhouse walls were thick.
But it made Daniel step backward.
“Maya.”
I could barely breathe.
I had forgotten that line.
Or maybe I had forced myself to.
On screen, I refused to sign.
Briggs leaned closer.
Then the door opened.
Arthur Vale entered.
Sebastian’s grandfather.
Even dead, he commanded the room.
Silver hair.
Three-piece suit.
Cane.
He looked at my pregnant younger self as though evaluating defective merchandise.
“Maya.”
On screen, I stood.
“Mr. Vale.”
Arthur sat.
“You have made this more difficult than necessary.”
“I want to speak to Sebastian.”
“He doesn’t want to speak to you.”
“That isn’t true.”
Arthur smiled.
“You always overestimated your importance.”
Present-day Sebastian’s hands shook.
I had never seen them shake before.
The recording continued.
Arthur explained that Sebastian was rebuilding the Vale empire after a federal investigation.
A scandal involving a secret former wife and three unexpected children would weaken him.
Then Arthur said something I had never told Sebastian.
Because I had been too ashamed.
“Sebastian has already agreed to marry Clarissa Hart.”
Sebastian turned toward me.
“What?”
I said nothing.
On screen, Maya whispered:
“He told me she meant nothing.”
Arthur laughed.
“He told you many things when he was young.”
Then he slid a photograph across the table.
Sebastian and Clarissa leaving a charity event.
Her arm through his.
The photo was real.
The meaning was manufactured.
Arthur continued.
“He chose his future.”
I watched myself place one hand over my stomach.
Then Arthur leaned forward.
“And you will protect your children by accepting that.”
I froze.
Present-day Sebastian noticed.
“What did he mean?”
“Keep watching.”
Young Maya asked the same thing.
Arthur replied:
“You have three unborn children carrying Vale blood. That makes them valuable.”
“What are you threatening?”
“I am warning.”
“About what?”
“Families like ours attract enemies.”
I remembered my fear.
Arthur continued.
“If Sebastian publicly claims them, they become targets. If they remain yours alone, ordinary children of an ordinary architect, nobody cares.”
Then came the sentence that controlled the next four years of my life.
“If you love them, disappear.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Sebastian stood by the window for nearly five minutes.
Finally:
“I’m going to find Briggs.”
Daniel said carefully, “We’re already looking.”
“No.”
Sebastian turned.
“I mean I am going to find him.”
I knew that tone.
Once, long ago, it frightened everyone except me.
Now it frightened me too.
“Sebastian.”
“He stole four years.”
“Your grandfather did.”
“Briggs helped.”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to forgive that?”
“No.”
I stood.
“But you have children upstairs.”
He stopped.
“If you want any chance of knowing them, you do not turn this into revenge.”
His eyes flashed.
“You’re giving me conditions?”
“Yes.”
“After hiding them?”
I flinched.
He regretted it immediately.
“Maya—”
“No.”
I stepped back.
“You’re allowed to be furious.”
“I am.”
“Then say what you mean.”
He looked at the floor.
When he spoke again, he sounded less like Sebastian Vale and more like the man I had married in secret.
“I don’t know how to look at you without seeing four years.”
My throat tightened.
“I know.”
“I missed everything.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know their first words.”
“I can tell you.”
“I don’t know which one cries during thunderstorms.”
“Ivy.”
“I don’t know which one hates peas.”
“Noah.”
“I don’t know which one climbs into bed when they’re scared.”
“Owen.”
His eyes filled.
“And you knew all of it.”
“Yes.”
He walked away.
This time, I let him.
Twenty minutes later, Daniel returned with another discovery.
The fifty-thousand-dollar settlement had been wired from a private trust controlled by Arthur Vale.
My actual divorce settlement—five million dollars—had never reached me.
It had been transferred to a holding company.
Owner:
Clarissa Hart.
I stared at the name.
Sebastian looked up slowly.
“No.”
Daniel continued.
“The company was created twelve days before your divorce finalized.”
Clarissa.
His fiancée.
The woman wearing an engagement ring in Central Park.
“Did she know me?” I asked.
Sebastian’s silence answered before he did.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She worked with my grandfather’s foundation.”
My stomach twisted.
“Before our divorce?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
I laughed.
It sounded ugly.
“So she knew.”
“I don’t know.”
“She received my money.”
“I said I don’t know.”
“She stood beside you today and looked at my children like she recognized them.”
Sebastian froze.
“What?”
“You didn’t see it.”
“Maya.”
“She knew something.”
Daniel’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“We found Briggs.”
“Where?” Sebastian asked.
“Philadelphia.”
“Bring him.”
Daniel hesitated.
“He’s dead.”
Silence.
“When?”
“Two hours ago.”
Sebastian stared.
Daniel continued.
“Apparent suicide.”
I looked at Sebastian.
Neither of us believed it.
Then Daniel placed another photograph on the table.
Security footage from Briggs’s apartment building.
A woman entering three hours before his death.
Blonde.
Long coat.
Dark glasses.
But unmistakable.
Clarissa Hart.
The woman Sebastian was supposed to marry.
The woman whose company received my stolen divorce settlement.
May you like
And the last known person to see Walter Briggs alive.
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